Then why, Habiba, do I feel as if I have lost something instead?
I force the question out of my mind. There are more important things to focus on, such as the prolonged absence of Darian and Sulifer, which has not gone unnoticed by the gathered nobles. The vizier and the prince leave a hole in the assembly, and it seems I am not the only one this worries. Caspida’s handmaidens are also alert and watchful, keeping an eye on the crowd. A clumsy murder attempt in the baths cannot be their only plan, so what are they waiting for? My eyes sweep the rooftops, looking for a hidden archer, but I see nothing suspicious. Still, something pulls at me, something that isn’t quite right.
Aladdin and Caspida repeat the words given to them by the priests, speaking vows of troth, fidelity, and love that neither truly feels. A few more minutes, and they will be wed in truth. Instead of feeling relief, I feel as if I’m about to be hanged, waiting for the floor to drop and my neck to break. My unease grows like a swelling wave, rushing inexorably to shore.
Maybe it won’t come. Maybe after his failed attempt to drown Aladdin, Darian cut his losses and ran. Maybe Sulifer decided he’d much rather spend the rest of his life fishing on the coast of Qopta than scheming of ways to manipulate this court.
Tense with unease, I turn back to the ceremony, which is moving to a close. An acolyte brings out a beautiful jade tea set. Once Aladdin and Caspida exchange rings and serve each other a cup, they will be officially wed in the sight of gods and men.
“In the presence of Imohel and these witnesses,” says one of the priests, “this man and this woman have come forth to bind their fates together. What token do you bring as a seal of this union?”
Aladdin turns to me, and I open my fingers to reveal the ring. He stares at it, his hand hovering over mine.
“Take it,” I whisper.
He swallows and picks up the ring, turning it over slowly, light flashing off the symbols carved into the metal. Then his eyes lift and meet mine.
“Zahra . . .” He closes his hand over the ring. “I can’t do it.”
My mind freezes. I open my mouth but cannot even form a thought to speak.
Aladdin turns around and draws a deep breath, lifting his chin. “I’m sorry, Princess. But this has to stop.”
The crowd breaks out into whispers, while Aladdin and the princess stare at one another with equal regret and relief. The priests exchange baffled looks.
“Your Highness, what is the meaning of this?” one asks.
Aladdin draws himself up bracingly. “Princess Caspida, I have nothing but respect and admiration for you. Truly you will be the queen this city needs. But I can’t marry you.”
The princess stands still as stone, her face unreadable. “Why not, Prince Rahzad?”
“I am sorry,” he replies. “The truth is, I am in love, but not with you.”
He turns to me, and my spirit takes flight like a flock of doves, startled and erratic. I cannot move, cannot speak, as he takes my hands in his and looks me earnestly in the eye. He presses the ring into my palm, and the gold feels as if it burns my skin.
“This belongs to you, and you alone. I’ve been so blind, Zahra. So caught up in the past that I’ve failed to see what’s happening in front of me. I’ve been such an idiot, I don’t know how I can expect anything from you. But I have to try. I have to tell the truth, and the truth is . . . I love you.”
“No,” I whisper. “You can’t.”
“I don’t care if you’re a . . .”—he pauses to clear his throat—“a servant. You’re beautiful and wild and kind, and I can’t stop thinking about you.” A sunny, foolish smile breaks across his face. “It’s wrong and stupid and wonderful, Zahra. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but here I am. I love you.”
Silence settles like a chill across the room, and we are surrounded by a sea of astonished faces. A few priests whisper to each other, looking panicked. Someone slips out the back door, perhaps to find Sulifer and tell him what has happened. Captain Pasha and his men grip their weapons and look from the princess to my master as if unsure whether they should arrest him or not.
Aladdin seems to notice none of this. He stares at me deeply, imploringly, waiting for me to speak. But I can’t. I am rigid with shock and fear and . . . if I am entirely honest, a tiny flicker of hope. My hand closes over the ring.
“Far be it from me,” says Caspida in a frosty tone, breaking the silence at last, “to stand in the way of such love. This wedding is over.” She turns to the crowd. “There will still be a feast later and dancing through the night. Priests, thank you for your service, but I believe we’re done here.”
She seems indifferent as the moon. But I can see deeper than the skin and sense she is bewildered and embarrassed, eager to get away. Her Watchmaidens flock to her, pulling her aside with murmurs of concern.
Aladdin watches only me. “I know you must think I’m an idiot,” he whispers, “but will you give me a chance? Will you let me start over?”
I back away, pulling my hands from his.